


Apocalypse Nearly Now

by 0positiv



Category: Being Human, Being Human (UK)
Genre: AU-or is it?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-12-05 04:42:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0positiv/pseuds/0positiv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And they all lived happily ever after...or did they? Rook cleans up the latest mess after Alistair begged him to return. (Most likely AU, but given that ending, who knows?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apocalypse Nearly Now

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Well then, that's it for Being Human, last episode aired, the end of their story. Or is it? Is it as much of a happily ever after as one would like to believe? Many different opinions on this last scenes going around the internet and every one possible. After seeing the extra scene on the BH blog about Rook and Alistair I had this fic idea. This is just my interpretation of what happened, please no one stake me for it ^.^ And the usual: none of it mine, not making money, jadda jadda ;)
> 
> AN2: Got rid of a mythology mistake I made. Of course you can hear Type 2s on a recording, stupid me *facepalm*

* * *

He thanked any gods he could think of that his men were as committed to their job as he was. All it took was a phone call and they were back in action, even if he could not promise them that they would get paid.

Exactly 45 minutes after he commandeered Alistair's car they were ready to try and get this chaos under control. He had of course kept an eye on the watch, it would not do to find his man dallying now of all times but they were as efficient as ever.

Dominic hated to admit it but it felt good to have been right all along. Even though he would not allow himself more smug moments then the one brief grin of triumph in the car he could not help but feel a deep satisfaction at Alistair's face as he'd begged for Rook to help him. People had died, a lot of people, and it was in part his own fault. But desperate times called for even more desperate measures and it had been for the greater good. No care, all responsibility.

He had always known that should push come to shove Special Branch would soon be brought to its knees. They simply lacked the experience and knowledge his department had had. Still had. They were back and he would make damn sure it stayed that way, no matter what.

He felt like he'd never been gone as he strode into the archive to find it buzzing with activity. He look with fondness upon his men, his army in grey, as they scraped together what ever weapons remained, loaded body bags, gloves and plastic aprons into their own cars since all the departments vans had been redistributed.

As he oversaw the preparations he couldn't help but notice the smiles on their faces. They were as glad as he was to be back in action. It showed him once again that for them this was not just a job, not just a way to pay the rent, each and every one of them believed in what they did, felt pride at what they did, even if the world never knew of it.

With the cars loaded with everything they might need the men waited for his command. Dominic checked his watch, went through all the facts in his mind once more, then sent the men out in twos to collect as many of the bodies as they could. Scenario 1, disposal of infectious corpses, full body gear. Five of the most experience men he ordered to come with him to the TV studio. How does one stop the devil…? There wasn't a scenario for that, Dominic feared.

Stepping over dead bodies was not a new experience for any of them but the gruesome ways some of these people had killed themselves were hard to look upon. But they had more important things to worry about as they soundlessly made their way into the studio. It was quiet as the grave, too quiet for Dominic's liking. Were they at the wrong place? Were they too late? As they entered the studio he soon realized that he was not at the wrong place at all. There were more dead bodies here, strewn around the floor like a child's discarded tin soldiers. And in front of the cameras sat Hatch, or what used to be him, as dead as the rest of them. Dominic cast his eyes around the room but found no sign of life or movement. Whatever had happened here seemed to be over. Somehow it seemed the devil's plan had backfired. But they were not here to interpret, they were here to make this go away, to bring order back to this world and wipe up the mess.

Without the need for orders his men set about bagging the bodies and taking them outside to be collected later. Dominic carefully made his way over to the announcer's chair, his eyes trained warily on the still figure sitting there, half expecting it to rise again. Pulling on gloves he checked for a pulse, finding none he looked for wounds or any other marks on the carcass that would explain its demise. There was nothing. It was as if the man had died of old age.

One of his men called out to him, voice ringing with confusion or disbelieve. With a few quick steps Rook was by his side, looking at him questioningly. The man pointed to the two still forms on the ground. As Dominic lowered his gaze he could not suppress a startled intake of breath. He knew those men, had been confronted by them only a few hours earlier. It were the Type 2 and the Type 3 who lived together, Hal and Tom. Kneeling down he felt for the Type 3's pulse finding it steady and strong, his body without wounds as well. He checked over the Type 2 but could find nothing to explain their condition on this body either. Standing up with his mind whirling in confusing he ordered his men to bind them securely and take them to the archive immediately. He would lock them up and think about their condition later. He had a crisis to take care of.

As the remaining bodies were taken outside and the clean up started Rook walked over to the computers holding any recorded footage. His foot made contact with a small object, sending it clattering a little way away over the hard floor. Bending down Rook picked up the flask he had given Hal in the hotel, a small amount of blood still inside. He waved one of his men over, dumped the flask into an evidence bag and handed it over.

It was not hard to find all copies of the broadcast Hatch had made and make sure no one but he would ever lay eyes on it again. But before he took out the hard drive and destroyed any back ups they had he watched the video one time. He could not stop his curiosity. He had to know what had happened here.

It started with Hatch holding a long and condescending monologue before he was evidently interrupted. The broadcast would have only shown an interlude picture from this point on but the camera had kept on recording. Hatch had walked out of the frame but Rook could still hear him having a conversation.It was a rather illuminating conversation and enough for Dominic to piece together that the three types living together in that old B&B in Barry had come to stop the devil. They seemed to have not been successful because after a mocking "Bang" from Hatch Dominic could hear two bodies hitting the floor. So that was what had happened to the two monsters. After that Hatch walked back into the frame, ready to resume his broadcast, but he looked decidedly worse for wear, a little sickly, like he had looked when he had still been confined to a wheelchair. Sitting down heavily Hatch gave a rueful smile to the camera and said "We shall meet again" before clutching his chest for a moment and then going still, evidently dead. It might have been a trick of the light but Dominic could have sworn he saw the air above Hatch's head flicker like air over heated asphalt on a hot summer day for just a second before the body went slack. The recording ended at this point, the broadcast had been stopped by a corpse's head hitting the keyboard.

Dominic looked over to the spot where the supernaturals had been found. Was the ghost still lying there? Invisible, intangible and unconscious? He had no way of knowing for sure unless he could bring another supernatural in to tell him. He slowly walked over to the spot, all his senses open, searching for that chill up his spine, the tingling sense of presence he sometimes got from being around Type 1s. He thought he felt something, but he was not entirely sure it was not his imagination. He squared his shoulders and brushed off his suit. No time for these games, he had a cover story to spread.

"Breaking news: As the department of Health stated in a press conference earlier this morning the recent wave of suicides in Wales have been traced back to an outbreak of a dangerous strain of encephalitis originating on Barry Island. All victims were taken into quarantine, the bodies to be cremated and returned to the families. All traffic to and from Barry Island has been stopped, the roads blocked off. The origin of the virus is as of yet unknown but specialists are certain that the outbreak is now under control. There have been no reports of new cases. Citizens are to remain in their homes and stay calm. There is no cause for alarm. In other news: Popular singer Justin Bieber declares his intentions to not return to Great Britain…"


End file.
